


Defenders of the Quidditch Cup

by anavoli



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter AU, Pidge being salty, Quidditch, minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anavoli/pseuds/anavoli
Summary: Gryffindor v. Slytherin. The weather is perfect and the stakes are high. Who will win the coveted Hogwarts Quidditch Cup?-- “WHAT THE HELL, LANCE?” Pidge’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? I’M NOT IN YOUR HOUSE AND EVEN I’M EMBARRASSED!” Hunk grabs hold of Pidge’s arms, preventing her from climbing out of the booth. The professors scramble to enchant the mic, five hexes hitting the booth at once, effectively filtering Pidge’s slew of profanities. “Biggest game of your life and you BLEEP BLEEP! BLEEP that was so BLEEP-ing stupid!” Pidge continues to yell. Hunk shakes his head, grabbing the mic from her grasp to continue the broadcast.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-smol-fast (princeassbodtercup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeassbodtercup/gifts).



Gloves on. Broom polished. Scarlet robes perfectly tailored. Lance swings his club around, feeling the familiar weight in his hand.

“Watch where you’re swinging that thing.” Lance spins on his heel with a smirk, coming face to face with Keith’s condescending look.

“Aren’t you a Seeker?” Lance taunts. “Quick and nimble? You should be able to avoid a slow, lumbering Beater like myself.”

“Alright you two, that’s enough.” Gryffindor’s captain places a hand on both their shoulders before a fight can begin. “We enter the field in two minutes.”

Lance and Keith nod, serious now that the game is starting. The two Quidditch players are notorious for their competitive natures. They have raced around the school on broomsticks before practice on more than one occasion, irritating their captain and making them the talk of the school when they are inevitably caught and reprimanded by the professors.

Regardless, everyone knows that the stars of the Gryffindor Quidditch team hold no real animosity against one another, because as soon as they hit the arena, their teamwork is incomparable.

“Here they come folks!” Pidge Holt’s familiar voice booms over the loudspeaker. “Gryffindor has entered the pitch!”

Lance beams a brilliant smile, waving wildly back at the stands. Keith rolls his eyes when Lance blows a kiss to crowd, never one to let down his “fans”.

“And here comes Slytherin,” Hunk chimes in. A loud cheer erupts from the Slytherin side of the stadium, green banners flapping in the air.

“How’s the weather today, Hunk my man?” Pidge asks.

“The players couldn’t have asked for better conditions, Pidge,” Hunk responds. “Clear skies, not even a slight chance of rain. Might get a little hot out there though.”

“A perfect day calls for a perfect game,” Pidge nods. “These guys can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

“Whoever wins this game will claim the coveted Hogwarts Quidditch Cup,” Hunk continues. “This is the first time in a while that Gryffindor or Slytherin’s had a chance at winning the title.”

Pidge gives an audible sigh. “Yes, Ravenclaw’s winning spree has sadly been broken, but don’t worry, we’ll be back with a vengeance!”

“Not if Hufflepuff gets the Cup instead,” Matt Holt calls from his seat in the stands, close enough to the announcer booth for his sister to hear his taunts. Hunk, himself a Hufflepuff, sighs but does not take the bait as willingly as Pidge’s brother does.

“In your dreams, Matt!” Pidge shouts back.

“Ah, Pidge,” Professor Coran tuts, tapping his wand on her shoulder disapprovingly. “Please try and keep all opinions out of the commentator’s seat.”

“You got it, Professor,” Pidge replies, though she flashes Hunk a mischievous smile from the side. “It looks like the teams are ready! Who’s ready for some Quidditch?”

The arena grows even louder, each side trying to outdo the other.

“Go get ‘em, Gryffindor!” Shiro shouts. Beside him, Allura and Matt hold up a banner with Lance and Keith’s names emblazoned across the fabric.

“Hopefully Gryffindor wins,” Matt muses. “Hufflepuff has a high chance of beating them next year.”

“Hey!” Shiro frowns at his friend, who cackles.

“May the best house win!”

Down on the field, the players mount their broomsticks, waiting for the sound of the whistle. The players watch the Bludgers and Snitch shoot into the air as the referee releases them.

“Alright, let’s have a clean game out there,” the referee looks each player in the eye, holding the Quaffle out in front of her. “I don’t want any funny business out there, got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” the players shout. The referee puts the whistle to her mouth. Everyone watches with bated breath as she slowly tosses it in the air, blowing shrilly into her whistle.

Immediately, fifteen brooms soar into the sky, players becoming blurs of color as they streak around the pitch.

“And they’re off!” Hunk leans closer to get a better view. “Looks like Slytherin snatched the Quaffle first!”

Managing to escape the initial chaos, Keith floats above the pitch, eyes darting back in forth for any glimpse of gold. He sees the Slytherin Seeker just across from him, similarly focused both on the game and looking for the Snitch.

“Slytherin’s headed towards the goal,” Hunk narrates. “Gryffindor in pursuit. But can they stop her in time?” Keith spots a flash of green, quickly pursued by several Gryffindor players.

“Oh no you don’t!” Lance shouts, raising his club to hit the Bludger a teammate sends towards him. He makes contact, but misjudges the distance and sends it flying towards the Keeper - Gryffindor’s captain. He quickly reacts, dodging out of the way, but the goal is left wide open. Unchallenged, Slytherin makes the goal.

“WHAT THE HELL, LANCE?” Pidge’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? I’M NOT IN YOUR HOUSE AND EVEN I’M EMBARRASSED!”

Hunk grabs hold of Pidge’s arms, preventing her from climbing out of the booth. The professors scramble to enchant the mic, five hexes hitting the booth at once, effectively filtering Pidge’s slew of profanities.

“Biggest game of your life and you BLEEP BLEEP! BLEEP that was so BLEEP-ing stupid!” Pidge continues to yell. Hunk shakes his head, grabbing the mic from her grasp to continue the broadcast.

“That’s ten points on Slytherin’s side folks,” he announces. “Gryffindor’s Quaffle!”

Lance rubs his head sheepishly. “Sorry!” he yells as he passes the goal, preparing for the next play.

“No worries!” the captain shouts. “Just don’t do it again!”

Gryffindor streaks across the field. Lance whizzes in between players, cutting off Slytherin players in pursuit. A Beater sends a Bludger towards his head immediately afterwards, but he spots it just in time to hit it right back.

“They’re closing in on the goal!” Pidge crows. Then, as the crowd erupts into cheers once again, “And Gryffindor scores!”

Lance whoops, raising a fist  in celebration. He looks up at Keith, overlooking the field as any Seeker should, catching his eye. Mutual understanding passes between them, and Keith immediately rushes towards the opposite side of the pitch. Suspicious, Slytherin’s Seeker follows.

“The score’s tied up,” Hunk informs the crowd. “Ten against ten. Still no Snitch in sight.”

“So far, Slytherin’s been playing a good game,” Pidge comments. “No major blunders like the one Gryffindor’s Beater made.”

“The game is still afoot,” Hunk reminds. “We don’t know how long it’ll last, but there are many opportunities to make mistakes. Especially when the stakes are this high.”

Pidge nods. “Just think back to the Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw game of last year,  when Hufflepuff _dropped_ the Quaffle at the last minute and allowed Ravenclaw to win by a small margin of ten points. Such a shame, really.”

“Take that back!” Matt leaps up, held back only by Shiro. Allura giggles beside them.

“She’s right, you know.” she says, blue scarf proudly wrapped around her neck.

Coran’s moustache twitches. “While that was an excellent comparison,” he mutters, careful that his words cannot be picked up by the microphone, “I suggest you get back to the task at hand.”

Hunk lifts his hand for a fistbump, which Pidge happily obliges.

“Slytherin’s got the Quaffle now, but--wait! Their captain just took a nasty Bludger to the head.” Hunk winces. “That’s gotta hurt.”

“Who cares!” Pidge stands up from her seat, engrossed in the action. “She dropped the Quaffle!”

Sure enough, five broomsticks are nose diving towards the ground, in pursuit of the Quaffle rapidly falling to the grass.

“Slytherin’s in the lead...they might recover from this,” Hunk predicts, but just as the Slytherin player reaches out for the Quaffle, a Gryffindor player snatches the Quaffle right from his grasp.

“Whoa, what was that?” Pidge squints, trying to see which player had gotten the Quaffle. “No way...is that--?”

“Keith!” Hunk’s jaw drops. “Gryffindor’s Seeker just got the Quaffle!”

“Is that allowed?” Pidge whirls around to the professor.

Coran nods. “By my counts, yes. It’s a legal move. Very tricky, though, and very risky.”

As the shocked spectators watch, Keith flies a circle around the cluster of Chasers still readjusting their course to pursue him.

“Here!” he shouts, hurling the Quaffle to the awaiting Chaser by Gryffindor’s goal.

A Beater haphazardly hits a Bludger towards the Quaffle in an attempt to disrupt the ball’s course, but Lance rushes in to block the attack. He smirks, swinging his club around. “Nice try!”

The Keeper lunges to block, but the Quaffle makes it through the ring. Gryffindor’s supporters erupt into cheers once again.

Pidge lets out a short whistle. “After an impressive strategy from Gryffindor’s dream team, the score is now ten to twenty, with Gryffindor in the lead!”

Keith smiles, looking up at blue sky above the pitch, heart still pounding after the play. Gryffindor’s captain designed the play a few weeks ago just for the pair of them, and he and Lance had picked it up quickly. This is one reason why people considered them to be such a fearsome duo on the Quidditch team.

Suddenly, his ears twitch at a familiar _whirr_ , followed by his second glimpse of the Snitch that day. It drifts just out of reach, teasing, before shooting across the field.

His split second of hesitation allows the other Seeker to get a head start, but Keith is hot on his heels. The Quaffle soars over their heads but they hardly pay attention to the game going on around them. Once the Snitch is spotted, it’s all about the Seekers.

“The Snitch has been spotted!” Hunk shouts. “Gryffindor’s in the lead, but if Slytherin gets the Snitch, it’s all over.”

“Be careful, Gryffindor. You could kiss that Cup goodbye today,” Pidge adds.

Lance sees the Seekers flying by, head snapping up to make eye contact with his captain. Receiving a quick nod of approval, Lance streaks into the sky after the two Seekers.

“And there goes Lance,” Pidge notices, bringing everyone’s attention to the Snitch pursuit. “We’ve seen this strategy play out many times. It’s BLEEP-ing predictable, but somehow it works. The real question is...will Slytherin fall for the trap this time?”

“Maybe not, Pidge,” Hunk tears the microphone from her hands. “Looks like Slytherin’s got a Chaser on their tail too!”

Keith concentrates on shortening the distance between himself and the Snitch. It is still on a straight trajectory, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before it decides to change course and zip around. May the best flier win.

He can sense Lance’s presence behind him. If they are able to execute the plan, Lance will cut off Slytherin and allow Keith to get ahead. This strategy is not a new one, but Gryffindor takes the extra risk of using a Beater instead of a Chaser.

“Slytherin’s Chaser has passed Gryffindor’s Beater!” Keith hears Pidge say from the booth.

“Shit,” he mutters.

Then, it begins. The Snitch hovers for a moment again, once again taunting the players, then flies towards the ground. Both Seekers dive for the precious ball while Chaser and Beater respectively try and stop the course of the opposite team.

Keith nimbly dodges Slytherin’s Chaser when he attempts to knock Keith off his broom. The four Quidditch players zoom back towards the field where the game continues. Although Lance was closest to the Snitch when it changed course, he’s now side by side with Keith, Slytherin a good broom length in front of them.

“Well Hunk, my bet’s on Slytherin,” Pidge says.

Hunk coughs. “If we were _allowed_ to make bets,” he amends for the professors watching. “I’d say Slytherin has a pretty good chance. Lance and Keith just can’t get enough speed.”

Keith grits his teeth, willing his broom to go faster. He gives the scoreboard a quick glance. One-hundred to eighty. Gryffindor will need the Snitch to win.

Ahead, Slytherin lets out a shout of surprise when the Snitch zips into the audience. All players stop, losing sight of the golden ball for a moment. The spectators join in the search, all eyes peeled for any flashes of gold.

Then, Allura shoots up from her seat. “There it is!” she points. Hovering just above the announcer’s booth is the Snitch.

“Hey, we have a little visitor,” Hunk smiles.

Keith locks eyes with the Slytherin Seeker. At the same time, both charge for the Snitch.

“If _I_ catch the Snitch, does Ravenclaw win?” Pidge jokes.

“Not if I get it first!” Hunk counters.

“Please, that’s not how the rules--aack!” Coran shrieks as the Seekers nearly crash into the commentator’s booth, turning their broomsticks at the last moment when the Snitch flutters off to the left.

The crowd is going wild. Money continues to be passed discreetly from hand to hand. The game is so close, the Snitch, and victory, right out of Keith’s grasp.

“Keith!” Lance shouts over the noise. “Voltron maneuver!”

Nodding quickly, Keith quickly changes trajectories. Gryffindor fans gasp in shock when Keith turns his broomstick high into the sky. Slytherin’s Seeker laughs.

“No feint is gonna work on me!” she vows, reaching out to touch the wingtip of the Snitch.

A scarlet blur streaks past her, diving for the Snitch. It escapes Keith’s grasp, but the flurry of his robes knocks the rival Seeker’s broom off course.

“Quiznak!” she curses, quickly straightening her course in pursuit. But Keith is already a good length ahead.

“Oh BLEEP!” Pidge shrieks. “Looks like Gryffindor might actually BLEEP-ing win this one!”

“Might?” Keith smirks, leaning forward on his broomstick. The wind whips across his face, the sting is a welcome sensation. He loves the thrill, the freedom, that being a Seeker provides.

His hand closes over the Snitch. It relaxes in his palm. The shrill whistle rings out across the pitch, and the game is over.

“They did it!” Hunk cheers, standing up in celebration despite the commentator’s “strict” take-no-sides rule.

“After that nail-biter of a game, Gryffindor takes the Quidditch Cup! Good day everybody!” Pidge slams the mic down on the table and she and Hunk rush out of the booth to congratulate their friends.

“Keith!” Lance shouts when he lands, quickly dismounting. “We did it!”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles, still clutching the Snitch in his hand. “We did.”

“Take that, Pidge!” Lance cackles, pumping his fist. “I won the bet.”

“You put a bet on our own game?” Keith frowns.

“I just had faith in our team.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure it’s illegal…”

“But who has five more Sickles than he did yesterday? This guy!” Lance boasts, jumping around in his excitement.

“I hope some of that will go towards buying me butterbeer in Hogsmeade,” Keith smirks. “Since I played a big part in the victory.”

“No fair!” Lance protests. “If it wasn’t for me, you probably wouldn’t have thought of the Voltron maneuver.”

“Why is it even called the Voltron maneuver?”

“Dunno, I thought it sounded cool. We invented a new Seeker move, Keith, we get to name it.”

“You mean _you_ get to name it.”

“Exactly.”

“Just buy me a drink.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the midst of finals week I told myself to chill and write this fic. Kaden (the-smol-fast) was telling me about his Voltron Harry Potter AU a while back and we started talking about Quidditch possibilities, so that's how this fic came to be. I do not promise that everything is accurate game-wise but I tried my best to research everything. I may or may not write another chapter solely based on Matt and Pidge in the commentator's booth, we shall see. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. You can find me on Tumblr at flyinghobbit or anavoli.


End file.
